When he did, it was like music. He thrust carefully against her, his advances slow and steady, pelvis grinding with the perfect delicious pressure against her clit with each movement. Every slow stroke was like a wave on the shore, and she gasped as she felt her tide rising. She’d never been fucked like this, slow, controlled and deliberate, each rocking motion building upon the last as the pleasure inside her seemed to grow and grow without ever bursting forth. It was the perfect form of torture, maybe worse than the teasing finger against her clit had been.
It felt as if the air had been sucked from the room, and she was once again lost and drowning in sensation. The things he could do with his body and hers were criminal! And her only consolation was that he was feeling the strain. His eyes were unfocused, the corners crinkled, and a sheen of sweat coated his body and hers. She rocked up to meet him, practically lifting herself off the bed, and felt herself edge closer and closer to death-by-pleasure. Then he gave a low cry and his pace doubled, his face transforming with a look of intensity and delight.
Sage only had a moment to admire the way he looked in the throes of passion. Their slow dance had shifted, and her body was more than ready for the change of pace. Her hips bucked eagerly to meet his as she felt herself rise and rise … and then a bomb went off inside her skull. She cried out and then her body froze, breath caught, as every orgasm she’d ever had came back to her all at once. Her entire body convulsed with pleasure and her pussy spasmed hard against Leo’s thick cock, dragging a long, low growl from his throat.
Then he was shaking, too, his body growing tense above her as he buried himself one last time and came deep inside her.
He left for a moment, but she stayed sprawled where she was, very content with the idea of never moving again. Ever. When he came back, he had a warm, damp cloth in his hand, and he smiled at her as he gently cleaned her up, then lay down beside her and pulled her against his hard body, cradling her in his arms.
‘Holy shit,’ she murmured, still dazed.
He chuckled and kissed the back of her neck. ‘So have I earned visitation rights?’ he teased. ‘Will you be coming back to see me?’
Sage laughed breathlessly and pressed back against him. ‘If you’re lucky,’ she told him, ‘I might even remember to bring my new puppy.’
Strangers in the Night
Ashley Lister
‘Strangers,’ Will declared. ‘That’s the only condition.’
He spoke as he poured two shots of bourbon. His hand shook ever so slightly and Emma couldn’t work out if that tremor came from his apprehension or his enthusiasm. She suspected it was likely both because her own insides were already churning and twisting with those wilfully contrary responses: she was very enthusiastic about what the evening had in store but she was also extremely apprehensive. The shake in Will’s hand was only subtle but it was enough to splash droplets of the smoky golden liquid onto the glossy surface of the hotel’s bedside cabinet.
‘Strangers,’ Emma repeated.
She took one of the shot glasses and sniffed the bitter contents. It was a quality whisky and she associated the smell with scents of daring, risk and satisfaction. As her nostrils drank in the rich aroma of the alcohol she could feel the heat at the top of her thighs grow syrupy with burgeoning desire. Her chest expanded, as though her body was swelling with arousal. This evening had all the promise of being the start of a perfect weekend away. All she needed to make it absolutely perfect was to locate a convenient and willing stranger. Or two. Or three.
Will swallowed his shot in one. He slammed the empty glass down hard on the cabinet.
‘Say it back to me,’ he insisted. ‘Just so we’re clear on the rules.’
She held the drink in front of her lips and nodded.
‘We go our separate ways tonight,’ Emma said slowly. ‘And we’re allowed to go with whoever we want.’
Will nodded. He was pouring himself another shot and staring expectantly at her untouched glass. He waggled the neck of the bottle, silently hurrying her, but Emma refused to be rushed.
The evening was an hour away and, for now, she had time alone with her handsome husband and she wanted to savour every moment. She could see their reflections in one of the hotel room’s many mirrors. Will, with his pale angular face, dark hair and his penchant for dramatic clothing, looked like he was auditioning for the role of a vampire. She, blonde, busty and bronzed, looked like she had stepped from a Californian beach. Together, she knew they did not look like a real couple and Emma supposed that was one of the things that made it easier for them to play with other partners.
‘Go on,’ Will encouraged.
‘We can go with men or women,’ she reiterated carefully. ‘Or we can go with both, if we want. But the only rule is that the people we’re going with have to be strangers.’ She put the shot glass to her lips and braced herself for the impact of the drink. Emma tilted her head back sharply and swallowed the drink in one.
The whisky was of a good enough quality to burn her throat.
The taste was deliciously compelling.
Will poured two more shots and then pushed the cork back into the bottle. He pulled her into a tight embrace. They were locked in a passionate kiss where his lips pressed powerfully against hers and his tongue plundered her mouth in a greedy and lustful exploration. She could taste whisky and him and her arousal grew so intense it throbbed between them as though it had assumed its own physical presence.
‘We’ve got cameras on our phones for photographic evidence.’ He spoke quickly once he had broken the kiss. ‘And we’re agreed that the one who gets the highest tally this evening will be the one who picks our holiday destination for July.’
Emma nodded agreement.
It was not the first time they had made this bet. Nor was it the first time they had included the incentive of allowing the winner to select their holiday destination. For the past five years, since the first anniversary of their open marriage, they had been adding distractions and diversions to all their extramarital activities. The challenge of choosing their holiday destination was becoming an annual event. This time, given that she and Will had such differing ideas about what made for a perfect holiday, Emma was determined to win. He loved snowboarding and skiing whilst she yearned for nothing more than a sun-kissed beach. Maddeningly, for five years she had not had a proper chance to work on her tan.
With her resolve hardened, Emma reached for the shot glass at the same time as Will picked up his. They downed their drinks in unison and studied each other with knowing smiles.
‘Strangers,’ they said together.